


Bloodlines

by Abby_Ebon



Series: It's Not A Rabbit Hat [29]
Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: The Nevernever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-27
Updated: 2012-06-27
Packaged: 2017-11-08 17:16:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/445577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abby_Ebon/pseuds/Abby_Ebon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>CkyKing : Lily Evans unknowingly held an entity within her, The Archive, not having the right power to awaken it. But, when she sacrificed herself for her son, the Archive passed onto him, to await a girl born to Harry's line. And, with Voldemort trying to kill his Host, the Archive awakened itself for the first time in a boy. I would like to see how the signatories of the unseelie accord would react to the first Male Archive in existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bloodlines

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CkyKing](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CkyKing/gifts).



> Note: 1/26/13, CkyKing wrote a short one-shot for this prompt called "Dressed to kill".

_These are the facts._

_I know everything._

_Well, perhaps not everything (there is always more to know) – but everything any human has ever known by sight, sound, touch, taste, and scent – I know. I do not learn, I know all._

_I am the Archive._

_I am Harry Potter._

_And the Dark Lord is trying to kill me_.

Ever since the first Archive there has been the bloodline, the family. (The family is not found under solely one family name, it spans countries and oceans and islands.) The family is made up of individuals of men who are (all) the carriers of the Archive, and women who are (all) the hosts of the Archive. There can only be one _active_ holder (but all women of the family are hosts: all men carriers) and she lives until she dies and the Archive is passed on down the bloodline – it is not always her daughter, it may be a sister's or a brother's daughter, a niece or cousin may be holder after her – or none of them at all, but another member of the family. There is always the Archive, but the Archive is not always _active_. As long as there is the bloodline, as long as there is the family, the Archive lives and learns and _knows_ as humanity grows.

No one knows how much the Archive knows, no one has dared ask.

It is known that even the lesser Queens of Fairy acknowledge the wisdom (and power) of the Archive. Or else why make the Archive a Freeholding Lord of the Unseelie Accords? It is thought that the only holder of the Archive would be female, but no magical construct that acts as the repository of all (mostly human) knowledge and wisdom could be one gender or another.

The goal of the Archive is survival, and women are protected in many of the world's societies. As a Freeholding Lord of the Unseelie Accords the Archive is above all, _neutral_. Then it happens, the family – the bloodline that hosts and carries and holds the Archive is being one by one hunted down.

The Archive first hides within the family, and the murdering, the slaying, the blood and death. It does not end. A child of the Archive's family is born that sees the slayer of his kin, and would surely die for this 'crime'. Now though, the Archive _knows_ who hunts its family.

Now the Archive intervenes. It loves, it lives – and Harry Potter wakes up on his eleventh birthday with the Archive's all- _knowing_ presence: Harry Potter calls it a ' _smug bitch'_. The Archive knows its holder is probably right, and is satisfied with this agreement between them.

"Why me, if the family is so big?" Harry asks this of the Archive, of himself that first day. He will never be one or the other; he is Harry Potter and The Archive. He, if you will, talks to himself – questions himself, and answers. It is not the most disturbing way to go about reasoning, but the Archive while quite sure Harry Potter is _sane_ knows that this does not help Harry Potter believe he is sane.

Harry checks his refection and answers his own question.

"You are a wizard." He fingers his wand thoughtfully; he knows all spells (invented). He does not have to learn them to know them. He is knowledge and wisdom. How _good_ he'll be at all he knows in practice is –questionable.

"Yeah, exactly, and you – you _like_ girls." The wand points at the refection, and the grin is there – mocking and open. The Archive, having been held in female bodies of Harry's family rolls its eyes and snorts.

"Who doesn't?" The Archive goes on, justifying.

"I don't think I do." Harry is thoughtful, frowning. The Archive is comfortable with this, its holders have been women – but not all women like men, some of its holders had liked women. It knows men like men. These complexities in relationships it knows, has studied, but will not share yet with an eleven year old boy. Regardless, the boy is trying to distract it.

"Think. You _know_ who has killed the family, who will continue murdering your family. We must protect them. We must save them. This is what I saved you for, and we will do it." The Archive traces the mark upon its brow, the lightning blot, and smiles. It knows how to rid itself of such a mar, but will not – Harry Potter will not, because he likes it. It…suits him.

"There is a lot we know, an awful lot. How to begin..?" Harry smiles, for he knows just where to start. There is a doorway right in his room, that he's never looked at save in the corner of his eye. The Archive knows where it goes, and Harry opens the door.

He goes into Nevernever.

"And who are you, pretty boy?" Is the first question Harry Potter, holder of The Archive hears upon stepping into the hall of the Winter Court – and it is Lady Maeve who asks. Outside all was snowstorm and hail. Here there is a calm that makes him uneasy.

"I am the Archive." He answers, simply and without feeling.

"A pity: I did not know you could be pretty _or_ a boy…" Lady Maeve muses, circling to look over the child Archive.

"I seek to challenge the one who is murdering my bloodline." The Archive is not surprised with Lady Maeve's surprise. He expects it.

"Whoa, wait – wow, _really_? Huh. I didn't know _you_ could do that, challenging someone – you are _neutral_ , still – aren't you?" Lady Maeve appears the same age he is, but the Archive knows that the Lady is older then eleven human years old. Knows, in fact the day and year she was born, having been there for the event. Lady Maeve is perhaps the only friend that the Archive can claim – and she does not know it. The Archive has never claimed such a personal bond.

"There is no spirit of the law, only the _letter of the law_ \- The Archive has been wronged, blood kin slain, and _I will challenge_." Lady Maeve takes a step back, and tilts her head, slowly smiling.

"You know, I think I _like_ you like this Archive. Though I suppose calling you Ivy won't work well anymore, will it? Ah, well – can't be helped, come see mommy dearest while I will think of another name for you, friend." The fairy do not call another friend or kin lightly, and it means much to the Archive that Lady Maeve does – and Harry breaths a sigh of relief and follows.

"Mother, the Archive has come to pay her – er, _his_ – respects…" Lady Maeve trails off, when Queen Mab looks to them. Her lips are pressed firmly in a thin line.

"His?" Her word is a near hiss.

"His." The Archive agrees, glibly. There is something undaunted in youth that not all the wisdom and knowledge of the human race may wound.

"Why come here?" He has now all Queen Mab's attention, and his tongue is not tied with the weight of power there in her eyes.

"I _will_ challenge one who has wronged me and mine." Queen Mab nods, thoughtfully. She agrees with him this far, as the Archive trusted.

"How?" She asks it, none the less. Harry Potter swallows, but meets her eyes. He dares not look away.

"I ask the Winter Court to be my ally. I ask the Summer Court to be my ally. I ask the Winter Queen to agree with the Summer Queen in favor of an emissary from the list of neutral emissaries." It is not an easy thing the Archive asks, but it is in fact the first thing the Archive has _asked_.

"Truly, you would go so far?" Queen Mab looks to Lady Maeve who tilts her head in something like agreement. They are both impressed, impressed by what (stupidity or bravery?) neither the Archive nor Harry know, but Harry can guess. The Archive prefers not to, prefers words which can be recalled and not taken away.

"I will _challenge_." The Archive insists, if ever it is to be considered a living magical construct it must protect itself to survive.

"Challenge who?" Queen Mab asks, for the first time.

"Tom Marvolo Riddle, 'I am Lord Voldemort', the Dark Lord. A wizard - a _murderer_." This one the Archive knows, and loathes. Harry delights in the mocking of that name.

"You have this right." Queen Mab bows her head in agreement, and Harry Potter –the Archive – goes next to the Summer Court. It is not an easy thing, to slip from one Queen's court to another, not in Fairy, but there is a path that the Archive knows and Harry takes.

Queen Titania greets him at the hall's big double door, he is expected and does not know if he likes it or not.

"Mother Summer and Mother Winter know you, Archive – and know what you seek, I will try to agree with Queen Mab upon a neutral emissary. Do you have a preference? You have more then earned the right to seek one, for most of the neutral emissaries owe you favor." Queen Titania wraps the Archive in a hug; she smells of flowers and is warm.

"I do not." Harry says into her hair, because he _doesn't_ the Archive knows all the strengths and weaknesses of his (their?) fellow emissaries – and the choice would inevitably injure someone's pride or cause friction. This must be done fairly and carefully – it is why the Fairy courts were chosen as the Archive's "organization".

Its holders are human, the prey of the Vampire Courts; and the Order of the Blackened Denarius are much like its own family of hosts and carriers – and the Archive does not like too much familiarity with fallen angels. The White Council does not always agree with the Archive, for it is a magical construct and knows that they will always see the Archive as such, a useful tool – not a _living_ entity. It is living and so is its holder.

The Fomor are traders by nature and would expect future favors.

So it is the Fairy – both Summer and Winter. This is its own dangers, but the Archive has upheld the Unseelie Accords – and has the respect of both Summer and Winter, what he is asks it not too much. It may in fact have been expected of it as a Freeholding Lord to do so, unspoken.

"You would not." Lily speaks, and her words are fond. Her fingers tap on a pool, the Archive looks into it and sees the frozen features of Queen Mab, she blinks looking back at him. On this side of the pool of water is water, on the other side (on Queen Mab's side) its surface is like a frozen mirror. The Archive understands, yet is still disturbed.

"A neutral emissary…?" Queen Mab begins, thoughtfully.

"A gentlemen…" Queen Titania waves, as if she knows where Queen Mab's thoughts go (and they are so alike and unlike, so who is to say she does not?).

"A gentlemen, eh?" Queen Mab's smile isn't kind, but the Archive never expects kindness from Fairy. Kindness, caring, that is for the short lived, the human.

"Gentleman Johnny Marcone?" Queen Titania snorts, though Queen Mab has said not one name.

"He is a human, as the Archive is. He is a criminal – he is a neutral emissary and has a rule about no children, he has morals…." Queen Mab goes on, pressingly.

" _He_ is in Chicago…" Queen Mab hints, and Lady Lily smiles at something unheard and unspoken.

"Harry?" Queen Titania looks to Lady Lily, and the younger nods – firmly.

The Archive knows it is not Harry Potter of whom they talk.

"I concur. The neutral emissary is named as Johnny Marcone." Queen Titania folds her hands, and Queen Mab's refection-image is replaced by Lady Maeve.

"I name myself the Archive's second!" She chirps, smirking into the Archive's face. His mouth opens and closes, but no words escape his lips.

"Wise." Lady Lily teases him – or teases her counterpart Lady. In the end the Archive nods, reluctantly in agreement. Lady Maeve sets her fingers on (frozen) her side the pool.

"Put your fingers where mine are, and we will go to Chicago." The Archive does as told, and the last thing he sees is Lady Maeve's wink. They are in a pub, but it does not smell badly. The owner glances to them, and pales – Lady Maeve only waves absentmindedly to him, she has other things on her mind.

"This is McAnally's pub." Lady Maeve tells the Archive what he already knows (though Harry Potter has never been here before).

"Come along, you'll like Chicago - it has Harry Dresden!" Lady Maeve skips along, and in her wake the Archive follows. He doesn't skip, but trots along at a reasonable pace so as not to be out distanced. What they look like to the sidewalk civilians – Harry Potter doesn't dwell upon. The Archive knows where Lady Maeve is going, so when they come to a stairway, and a door – the Lady Maeve knocks upon it politely.

"He's all yours." This, the Archive does not know is directed to him – or to Harry Dresden, but Lady Maeve wiggles her fingers goodbye. Then she is gone, and Harry Potter is alone for the first time with a wizard.

"Wait, what – you are?" The Archive blinks, and answers his tone even.

"The Archive." Harry nods his head in greeting, trying for polite. He feels like he's been dropped off with the babysitter, and sighs.

"Oh." Harry Dresden takes a few steps back, unspoken invitation. He is wounded, the Archive – the last holder – she was a little girl, she was _Ivy_. Lady Maeve had used that name, but Harry Dresden had named her – him.

The Archive takes a seat and Mouse noses in, as dogs are welcoming where cats are curious. Mister eyes him, and the Archive eyes him right back.

"What happened, with Ivy. I didn't know she…" This is difficult for the both of them, the Archive knows. Rarely does it appear before the same person in a different body.

"Murdered from behind..." The Archive runs his fingers through Mouse's hair, calming them both, soothing.

"Do you know who?" There is fury there, and the Archive meets Harry Dresden's eyes. Dresden would kill for the Archive, if asked. He does not ask.

"I do, this holder is Harry Potter, and he saw the murderer at only a few months old. I have waited for him to grow so as to challenge the _murdering bastard._ " They both speak, and the Archive knows it confuses Harry Dresden. He is not, after all, the only one whom is furious.

"Do you need a second?" Dresden volunteers, willingly. The Archive shakes his head.

"No, Lady Maeve has …insisted." The Archive can not help his smile; he had no choice at all in that, as she is the Archive's…friend (his first). Harry Dresden though – is also his friend. A friend both dangerous and good.

"Oh, well, I think you need to call Kincaid…" Dresden hints, looking to the only phone in his apartment. The Archive looks to it, blankly. It feels a swelling of fear and hope.

"He lives?" The Archive did not know that, did not seek to know that. Kincaid is his protector, his dear friend. All that Kincaid knows, the Archive does not, for Kincaid as a scion is not wholly _human_ and his knowledge does not apply to the magical construct the Archive is. He is not _his dear friend_ , he is the dear friend of Ivy, and Harry Potter doesn't know what to make of it.

"If you can call it living, he's rather depressing." Dresden does not illustrate, but the Archive needs not know more while he dials. There is a number Kincaid gave the Archive which he will always answer.

"Jared Kincaid, you did not fail the Archive." It's all he says, his message – and it's enough. It's answered.

"I _did_ , I failed Ivy, failed Lord Drakul." Kincaid sounds depressed, not sounds - is.

"That is Lord Drakul's mistake – and mine, the Archive can not be protected from a murderer by an assassin. You did not fail as my driver." At this the Archive smiles, and hopes his humor can be heard as clearly as Kincaid's depression. The assassin snorts, having a wicked sense of humor that is not lost.

"Where are you?" Kincaid asks, and the Archive knows that wherever he is, Kincaid can get to. He isn't alone. That is what it means to be a dear friend of the Archive.

"Chicago, Harry Dresden's apartment…" Kincaid does not answer right away, and so the Archive knows he is surprised.

"Don't do anything stupid – I'll be there before midnight." With that Kincaid hangs up.

"Too late." The Archive sighs.

"What's too late?" Harry Dresden asks, but the Archive looks toward the door, the day, before answering.

"The challenge is at noon." At the latest hour, twelve is six and six, which is three and three – which is the number of Queens in the Summer and Winter Courts- it goes logically without saying.

"Today, _of course_ today…" Dresden's mutter is like a curse. The Archive tilts his head curiously and blinks. Dresden is distressed, and he does not like that.

"Did anyone ever tell you Ivy…Archive – _Archy_ , that you have bad timing?" The Archive only shakes his head _no_. He also does not point out that his name is Harry Potter, which is suspected to distress Harry Dresden – for why after meeting him would the Archive chose a holder with the same name as his own?

The Archive – Archy – does not answer any unspoken question, though it settles between them like a fog, seen but unseen. It is not asked because Dresden doesn't think he'll like the answer. He's probably partly right – but not wholly right.

" _Why_ today?" Dresden further asks, and the Archive watches as he scurries about gathering weapons as if he is going to war. That is question that the Archive answers. Dresden will wish he hadn't.

"It is the anniversary of this holder's parent's death, and also of Ivy. I –she – they will be avenged with my challenge." Even if this holder dies, for that was the agreement the Archive gave, the reason Harry Potter conceded to be the first carrier-holder.

"Okay, okay, I get it – you, Archive are all pissed and vengeful, but what do you want me to do?" When there is a threat against the Archive, the Archive may act against its neutrality. It does not ask, it answers – knows all answers. If this holder lives or dies, the Archive has challenged, and the challenger will die. The Summer and Winter Courts, Harry Dresden, and Jared Kincaid will ensure the murderer of the Archive's bloodline – Tom Riddle, dies, today.

"I suspect Lady Maeve sent me here to say hello, and goodbye. I will thank you; you made it possible for Johnny Marcone to be one of the Freeholding Lords. Whom the Summer and Winter Queens agree upon will not be argued in my favor." The Archive smiles faintly, while Harry Dresden groans running his hands over his face and pulling on his hair.

"You _know_ this is a bad idea!" Dresden accuses, bitingly.

"It is _my choice_ to avenge my family – generations are being killed, it did not end with the self murder of Ivy's mother or the murder of her grandmother, or my mother, my father. My father, he was the last wizard of the Potter line." It quite easy to see that the Archive, the boy Harry Potter, mourn – where one begins and the other ends is blurred. There is no end and no beginning, they are one.

"Damn-it, fine – you want this guy righteously and truly challenged dead. How are you going to fight?" Dresden demands it, and hasn't thought it through.

"Tom Riddle and I are both wizards. It is more then likely he will chose magic." This the Archive acknowledges, touching the wand behind his ear.

"No, oh no – Archive, does your holder – has he _learnt_ one spell?" Dresden is pale, sweating – worried.

"I know all spells." The Archive's tone is not reassuring. It is a fact.

"That's not how it works, you have to learn them, practice them!" Dresden is instant, but the Archive knows this.

"Dresden. I _know_." The Archive grits his teeth, he isn't stupid (young, oh yes).

"Okay, tell me – what spells are you going to use?" Dresden demands it, thinking that this is for the Archives own good, and the Archive sighs.

"Just one." One is all the Archive will need.

"Which one!" Dresden demands it, not asks – but the Archive answers.

"One word, one spell. _Death_." It is very old, and has not been heard aloud and used since Rome fell. There are variations: but the Archive knows this spell. No one else does on all the Earth (that is human) and there is no _practicing_ it. Harry Potter will not allow it.

"I see." Dresden sounds disappointed, and the Archive does not like that.

Lady Maeve appears, wordlessly offering her hands to each of them – the Archive does not hesitate, and seeing this – Harry Dresden takes the hand offered him. The location is Nevernever, and the Archive is not surprised. It was another thing unspoken, left to Lady Maeve to work out.

There stands Tom Marvolo Riddle – alone but for a man behind a Death Eater's white mask and black robes.

There too is Mother Winter holding Mother Summer, who blinks sleepily at her surroundings – she looks to be weeping. On each side of the Mothers are their daughters the noble Queens, and then Lady Lily and Lady Maeve.

Dresden and the Archive stand in the middle of such company.

"Who is responsible for this?" Tom demands and the Archive steps forward.

"Let it begin." Johnny Marcone says – with a searching glance toward Harry Dresden.

"I am the Archive, I am Harry Potter – and I will end you will today Tom Marvolo Riddle." This the Archive says as it claims any knowledge.

"I am Lord Voldemort." He hisses a shadow, a shade – and the second, he is living and mortal. This, the Archive knows, changes things – for you can not kill what is already dead. The shadow lunges forward, a wave – and it consumes, drowning Harry Potter – the Archive, drowning them in darkness. Even as magic is a weapon, it is not the only weapon.

"Harry!" (Who, Harry Potter or Harry Dresden, but it a warning, the one warning that the Archive heeds. Though he does not know who speaks.) The Archive is whole, it is the soul of Harry Potter – but it is not the only soul within Harry Potter.

This, the Archive did not know (no living human knew). This now the Archive fights for with Lord Voldemort, who will possess the boy wizard, who lays claim to his soul and body.

In Nevernever, the shadow, the shade of Lord Voldemort battles within a living boys body – battles the Archive, for a mortal body, Harry Potter has fallen unconscious, and tosses and turns, glowing by turns with dark (consuming, rolling clouds) and light. Lady Maeve goes to him, can not be held back – and cradles his head in her lap.

The light that flashes from within blinds like lightning, a storm is growing in the skies of Nevernever.

 _You are weak_. The shade, the shadow, the soul serpent hisses.

 _I am not_. Harry protests, weakly and weeping - he feels he has betrayed the Archive, by bringing the enemy within them. Knowing and not knowing, the Archive would never make so foolish a mistake.

 _You will be mine, my body, and my soul shall usurp your own_. There are shadows (the shadows are the shade, the soul of Tom Marvolo Riddle) all around, and Harry can not see any light. Any end.

 _He is more then one; he exists because his souls are flung (but his body is dead!). He is wide and powerful (a storm) but not unending, even storms end. The damage will…hurt_ ….This the Archive whispers and warns.

Harry Potter possesses a soul and a living body, and a part of Tom is within him. He understands then, that he was bait all along. Even as the Archive he had known it, but there is a difference in understanding and wisdom, in practice and knowing spells.

Tom Marvolo Riddle gathers his shadows, his shade (his scattered and slivers of soul) and because this is the Nevernever, and it is everywhere and every when, he succeeds in gathering his souls within Harry's body.

 _This is the end_. Tom laughs at him, mocks, but Harry Potter/the Archive knows he is right. Fingers that are not fingers (but a shadow of a souls imagining of a body) wrap about Harry's throat – and lips press to his, taking and swallowing a soul not Tom's own – to take the body, there must not be another soul. There must be a whole soul, and the Archive will obey its holder.

That holder, Tom Marvolo Riddle imagines, will be him – and Harry Potter will be no more.

Beyond the shadows of a broken soul, is a shining thing of spirit and wisdom – it hovers where Tom can not see but Harry can, just out of sight within him.

 _A trap_. The Archive speaks, agreeing with Harry's knowing.

 _Mortis_. The Archive whispers into Tom Marvolo Riddle's ear.

The spell, the one word: Death.

It is a summoning.

Black winged and gleaming, Death bows to the Archive and cuts Tom Marvolo Riddle's hair in one smooth motion. Tom does not even know, he heard only the word – and then he is taken by Death – who goes swiftly and willingly.

 _Is it over_? Harry asks, rubbing his neck, whipping his lips - and the Archive gathers him up in light and warmth, in cold calculating wisdom.

 _No, it is only beginning – now we live_. The Archive opens his living green eyes.

"Welcome back – I'll not let you do that again." Lady Maeve warns, but in a teasing tone he knows to take seriously. Lady Maeve will one day be Winter Queen, and the Archive, knowing all human wisdom, is no fool to cross her.

"I will not need to." The Archive agrees, for now all of Nevernever will be watching closely after him, for good or ill, he is respected and protected by both Summer and Winter.

"Take us home?" The Archive asks for all three – himself, Harry Dresden, and Johnny Marcone – he knows the way back, but he has not the strength. Lady Maeve kisses his forehead and when he opens his eyes he's in Harry Dresden's apartment, with Harry going for the kitchen like a sleepwalker, to feed his cat, his dog, to make cocoa.

There is another there, waiting. Jared Kincaid is not at all best pleased with him (them), but this is a state the Archive assumes he seeks, for it is the risk of being the Archive's dearest friend.

"You went without me!" Kincaid hisses in a most demonic way, so much so that the Archive is sure his father would be pleased.

"The twelfth noon hour _there_ is twelve hours past here." The Archive agrees. Kincaid rolls his eyes and ruffles the Archive's thick black hair.

"You're just lucky." Harry Potter's smile is cocky.

"I think we will stay here, as it is already midnight – do you mind, Harry Dresden?" The Archive asks, but knows that Harry Dresden does not mind, and is actually pleased to not be…alone, even if he never admits it loud.

The Archive knows.


End file.
